The Interview
by TheAprilFool
Summary: Tom Riddle prepares for the interview that will decide his future.


Not sure where this went, but I got it back.

* * *

THE INTERVIEW

By TheAprilFool

Based on Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Tom Riddle was one of the brightest wizards of the age, and yet he was feared by everyone. People feared the power he had and the usages he might put it to, perhaps a little too much, Tom wondered as he awoke that morning at seven sharp. His friend, Antonin Dolohov was waiting to greet him as he wandered downstairs from his bedroom. Antonin had insisted on having a key made to Tom's apartment, and constantly (and annoyingly) he spent much of his time sneaking in and doing creepy things, like tidying up after Tom's messes, for Tom was a fairly messy person, cooking Tom breakfast, and writing thank you notes for all of Tom's birthday, Christmas, and other holiday presents. He also had a terrible habit of calling Tom "My Lord" as if Tom was royalty.

"My Lord!" Antonin greeted Tom as he entered the kitchen. Tom groaned, and gave a wave. Dolohov had a pancake breakfast cooking and was wearing an apron with "kiss the cook" written on it overtop of his traditional black robes. Why did all of his friends wear black? Tom wondered. More importantly, why was Tom's wardrobe rather dark and grim looking? Tom went to pour himself a cup of coffee, but his hand was knocked away by Dolohov who smiled at him.  
"Let me, My Lord."  
"Alright…" Tom uttered as he sat down at the dining room table. His seat was well known to any visitors, thanks to Antonin. Tom's table was black and shiny, and the chairs matched, except one. Tom's chair was a sickening green color with "HEIR OF SLYTHERIN" carved into it. No matter how many times he tried, Tom had yet to remove the enchantments that made the chair so embarrassing.  
'Seriously!' Tom thought. 'Who cares if I'm heir of Slytherin? I hate it. Ever since I was at Hogwarts it has given me nothing but bad news.'  
It was true. In Tom's fifth year at Hogwarts the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, and a basilisk had been set upon the muggle-born witches and wizards at the school. It took Tom the most of that year to solve the mystery, and he had solved it wrong. He had been so sure it was Hagrid… Unfortunately it wasn't until after Hagrid had been expelled that Tom realized that it had been him all along, talking in his sleep.  
'Poor Myrtle…' Tom lamented. 'She was so sweet… I never could get my nerve up to ask her out…'  
Tom was jerked out of his thoughts as a full plate of food landed at his spot. He gave a nervous smile to Dolohov, who gave him a big grin complete with thumbs up. Tom was sure that had he been standing near Dolohov, Dolohov would have given him the athletic butt slap. That was how Dolohov was, he supposed. At least he made a nice breakfast.  
"How is it?" Dolohov asked, after a few minutes. "Does it please you, My Lord?"  
"Y-Yes… It's good…" Tom mumbled. "Thanks."  
"Oh no need to thank me." Dolohov smiled. "Just enjoy it…_and when you take over make me your right hand man_."  
"What was that?" Tom asked, not catching the second half of Dolohov's sentence.  
"Nothing, nothing." Dolohov smiled. "What's on the itinerary?"  
"Oh, well, I have a job interview at Hogwarts later today." Tom smiled. "I have to go to Diagon Alley to get some new robes."  
"I see. Would My Lordship like me to accompany him?" Dolohov asked, smiling.  
"Uh, no I'll be alright on my own." Tom said. 'I need some time to myself anyway… Maybe I'll stop by Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. I've been craving a sundae.'  
"As you wish, My Lord." Dolohov smiled.

After breakfast Tom made sure to brush his teeth, because bad teeth ran in the family. No matter how much he tried to brush them they seemed to be falling apart in his mouth. It lamented him that his once bright and shiny teeth now more resembled the teeth of a T-Rex than a human being, but he would keep them as clean as he could, because they would probably fall out the minute he missed a chance to brush them. After brushing his teeth, Tom applied "Mystic Mochrie" a formula to prevent hair loss, as baldness also ran in the family. The formula seemed somewhat ineffective, as his hair was getting rather thin, and he was also pale. No doubt his addiction to World of MuggleCraft for the past few years had not done his skin any favors. He had all but vanished off the map for many years due to that blasted game!  
'But it's alright!' Tom thought, as he rubbed Mystic Mochrie into his hair. 'I've had a few years to get back up to speed. I should be fine in the interview… if they ask why I haven't worked I'll just wing it.'

Tom looked over his bleak wardrobe. All black. Tom hated black.  
'So why do I wear it so much?' Tom wondered. He picked out his finest black robes, which in retrospect were only the finest because they had the least dirt on them, and put them on. 'Mental note: do the laundry... Dolohov's been slacking.'  
Tom took a few steps forward before hanging his head in shame. He should not ask Dolohov to do his laundry! He should do it! Tom raised his head high with determination, and he gathered up his robes to do the laundry. When he got to the laundry room he was hit with the first hurdle.  
'I don't remember how to do the laundry… how long has Dolohov been doing it for me?' Tom felt ashamed. He stepped into the laundry room and after looking over the magical washer and dryer for a few minutes he decided to try the one with the door in front rather than on top. Tom dumped in the soap and the clothes and set it to run for an hour. When he got back, no doubt, his cloaks would be fresh and ready… to be hung back up in the closet. Tom planned to get some new robes for his interview. Nice blue robes.

Tom approached the fireplace and noticed he was low on floo powder.  
"Better pick up some mo-" Tom began, but instantly Antonin Dolohov swapped the near-empty plot for a fresh one.  
"Oh… thank you." Tom muttered.  
"No problem, My Lord." Dolohov said, somewhat smugly. "_I will be justly compensated when our dark plans commence._"  
"What was that?"  
"Nothing, nothing."  
Tom shrugged it off. Bad hearing ran in the family as well. He took a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.  
"Diagon all-"  
"My Lord, where should I put-" Dolohov interrupted, causing Tom to choke on his words. The green flames whipped around Tom and he went spinning through the floo network until he was spat out in Borgin and Burkes.  
'Great…' Tom thought. 'Just the place to be. I hated my job here… I never should have listened to their pitch. I better get out of here befor-'  
"TOM! How nice to see you again!" Said a dark voice that Tom recognized too well.  
"Hello Mr. Burkes." Tom said.  
"How have you been?" Burke pulled Tom up to his feet and patted him on the back, sending soot flying around the room.  
"A-Alright…" Tom said.  
"Last time I saw you," Burke began, "my good brother and I sent you on an errand."  
"Y-Yes, well…"  
"It's been six years, Tom." Burke smiled at him, a calm tone that caused Tom's heart to skip a beat.  
"I-I got lost?" Tom tried.  
"Oh, I don't believe that, Tom." Burke smirked. "I did hear that you killed old Miss Hepzibah and took that cup from her."  
"N-No." Tom said. 'What am I going to tell him!? He'll never believe the truth!'

Truth was, when Tom had been meeting with Miss Hepzibah, her heart spontaneously exploded in her chest, likely due to taking the wrong potion, and the cup had been destroyed in the explosion.  
"Sh-She just… had an affair… and her husband found out and… murdered her… in front of me… quite scarring." Tom tried.  
"She was not married." Burke said. "Strike two."  
"Strike?"  
"Baseball. Muggle sport. My son watched it before I cursed it out of him." Burke smiled.  
"Oh…" Tom said… He disliked sports. Especially Quidditch. Frankly, broomsticks gave him the heebie jeebies and he would prefer not to be anywhere near them, and after that incident that ended with the Quaffle up one nostril and the Golden Snitch up the other, Tom would rather not see a Quidditch match ever again. Tom sighed, he must tell the truth… it might work.  
"She just… died, and took the cup with her…" Tom said. "It wasn't my fault! I panicked!"  
"HA!" Burke began having a laughing fit. "She just… died… and took… HA! And they told me you were intelligent boy…"  
Tom's cheeks began to redden.  
"I just…"  
Ropes wrapped around Tom's body tying him to a desk.  
"You'll wait right here while I go fetch my brother… and tell him your … funny jokes." Burke smirked.  
"Alright…" Tom said. "Take your time…"  
'I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!' Tom screamed in his mind. It would be all too easy, except Tom could not reach his wand. He began to despair.  
He looked right.  
He looked left.  
He looked down.  
He looked up and screamed. "I'M IN DESPAIR! BEING TIED UP IN A WORKPLACE I RAN AWAY FROM HAS LEFT ME IN DESPAIR!"  
Then all of a sudden the ropes disappeared. Tom looked down where they had been for a few moments.  
"Wow… Ropes that die from despair! Who'd have thought?"  
"No, it was me, My Lord." Dolohov said, popping out from behind a desk.  
"AH! Oh Dolohov! Hi…"  
"I thought you might need some help in Diagon Alley! So I went there, but I couldn't find you." Dolohov explained. "Knowing you as I did, I was sure you would be in Knockturn Alley!"  
"W-What?" Tom struggled. Why would Dolohov expect him to be in Knockturn Alley? That was where _Dark Items _were sold!  
"W-Well no matter…" Tom muttered. "I need to get out of here! Quick!" He dodged out of the shop with Dolohov in hot pursuit. He quickly headed into Diagon Alley and to the nearest robe shop he could find.

Every. Robe. In. Stock. Was. Black.

Tom felt like despairing again, but convinced himself to try another shop…

The only other robe shop in the alley had burned down last week.

Tom felt sad, as he purchased a brand new pair of plain black robes. For some reason the witch in charge kept trying to get him to purchase the one that was slightly torn. She said it made him look more intimidating.  
'I don't want to look intimidating! I want to look presentable!' Tom wailed in his head as he paid for the robes. As he left the robe shop he stood face to face with none other than Hagrid.  
"O-Oh… Hello Hagrid…" Tom muttered. "L-Lovely day…"  
"Tom? Tom Riddle?" Hagrid asked. "What'er you doin' here in Diagon Alley? Thought you worked in Borgin and Burkes."  
"N-No! That was… a mistake." Tom tried to explain. "H-How have you been?"  
"Fine, keepin' fine." Hagrid uttered awkwardly. "Dumbledore kept me on as gamekeeper, so I get ter watch the magic… _rather than make some._"  
"Oh, I see…" Tom felt rather embarrassed. 'I should have confessed to the whole chamber thing… I knew it would haunt me…'  
There was an awkward silence.  
"So-" Tom started.  
"Bes-" Hagrid started.  
The silence resumed.  
"So, Dumbledore is headmaster now?" Tom asked. "Great choice…"  
"Yeah… great. He'll keep the riff-raff away from the students." Hagrid said, coldly.  
"Look, Hagrid-" Tom started, but a rather odd sight caught his eye and he instantly lost his train of thought. "There is no way I want to be best friends with you, you brainless oaf!" Tom hissed.  
"I wasn' askin' you ter!" Hagrid looked rather angry. "I bes' be off. Lots ter buy… _Hogwart's Business_." He shoved past Tom who looked back, mouth agape.  
"No… Hagrid…" Tom said, a tear welling up in his eye. He had been looking at Antonin Dolohov who was holding up a muggle T-shirt with "MY BEST FRIEND" written on it with arrows pointing. Dolohov was wearing a matching shirt.  
'Why did he have to show me that now of all times?' Tom wondered in his mind. He had rather liked Hagrid, and getting him thrown out had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. Tom ran off with his new robes to find a place to cry.

Later that day, Tom arrived at Hogwarts wearing his brand new black robes. He felt confident again in his abilities to perform and teach defense against the dark arts. He had even brought that paper he wrote in his last year on the effects of Horcruxes on the soul. He theorized that each one would bring the person to a less human state, make them look more animalistic in nature. He had tried to publish it before he left school, but apparently a seventeen-year-old knowing about such things had put a negative spin on the paper. Tom was sure the publishers had never even read it, but Dumbledore would. Dumbledore was a fair man, a good man. Tom smiled as he wandered down the halls. Then he heard a familiar sob coming from a door. Tom looked left and right, the halls deserted… and he peeked into the girl's bathroom. A second later he pulled his head out and shut the door tight, blushing. Myrtle was in there! She was a ghost! He can talk to her again! Her sobbing was so … cute… Tom couldn't help but think. She was everything he had ever wanted in a girl. Taking a deep breath he reached for the doorhandle and-  
"Tom, why are you going into the girl's bathroom?" Albus Dumbledore stood down the hall. Tom's heart leapt out of his chest, around Hogwarts, finished off the game of Quidditch with his lungs and other organs, and fell back into place as Tom jumped away from the door.  
"I-I uh… I" Tom mumbled and his mind tried to come up with an excuse. "Thought it was… your office."  
"Not looking for something, are you Tom?" Dumbledore asked, mysteriously.  
"Uhh, no… I was… uh…" Tom's face felt like it was burning. "I just… wanted…"  
"No matter." Dumbledore dismissed him and waved him forward. "Follow me."  
"Y-Yes sir." Tom mumbled, following after Dumbledore. He stole a glance back at the girl's bathroom… He would stop by and say hello to Myrtle on the way out. That thought comforted him, and Tom smiled.  
"Pumpkin Pastys." Dumbledore said, to the statue guarding his office. It moved out of the way allowing Dumbledore and Tom to take the spiraling staircase up. However, Dumbledore did not take it. He stood aside.  
"Please wait for me in my office, Tom. I have a few duties to attend to and then we will begin your interview."  
"Y-Yes sir." Tom stepped onto the staircase, and rode it up to Dumbledore's office. He stood in the circular room, mystified by all the dark detectors and instruments… all of which happened to go off the moment Tom stepped in the room. The Sorting Hat stood on its stand shouting  
"SLYTHERIN! SLYTHERIN! SLYTHERIN! SLYTHERIN! SLYTHERIN!"  
"OW!" Tom grabbed his ears and sunk to his knees. What kind of a prank was this?! He waited there for about five minutes, before things settled down. Tom got to his feet and looked around confused.

Nobody would ever know that at that moment in time, the Dark Wizard Dlaweldnirg entered Hogwarts for but a few minutes. His goal was to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and failed miserably because he had not realized the Stone was at Gringotts and not Hogwarts.

Tom pulled himself together and decided to question the Sorting Hat. It had been odd, being put in Slytherin. Sure, he was Slytherin's heir, but it had been horrible. He had been teased as a muggle-lover and for sticking to the rules something awful, and had always wished to be in Gryffindor.  
"Um… Mr. Sorting Hat…" He questioned softly.  
"Bee in your Bonnet, Potter?" The hat questioned.  
"Potter? Who is Potter?" Tom asked. "I know a Mr. and Mrs. Potter in Godric's Hollow. I hear they had a son named James. Nice people."  
"Sorry, Slytherin's Heir." The hat gave its best Hat Shrug ever, which was quite a shrug for something without shoulders. "I mistook this for something in canonical events."  
"What does that mean?" Tom asked.  
"Never you mind, Slytherin's Heir." The hat said, reassuringly. "Feeling lost? Lonely? Dying to take over the world?"  
"Not lost, a little lonely, and definitely not. That would be ghastly." Tom said. "I-I just wanted to know why you put me in Slytherin?"  
"Isn't it obvious, Slytherin's Heir?" The Hat asked.  
"Well… in a way…" Tom said, "but I didn't know at the time…"  
"Yes, you were particularly easy to place, Slytherin's Heir." The Hat smirked. "As soon as I saw your favorite color I knew which house to put you in."  
"My favorite color is yellow…" Tom pointed out.  
"Exactly." The Hat said, as if that cleared up everything. Tom decided to stop talking with it.  
"Alright… thanks…" He said, as he went to sit down at Dumbledore's desk, but before he could sit he noticed a bird. It was a beautiful bird. Tom wanted to pet the bird… oh how he wanted to pet the bird…

So he did. He pet the gillyweed out of that bird. Then the bird burst into flames and burned apart. Tom felt heartbroken. He had just made a new friend, an animal friend and you know how those animal friends never stop loving you. Now that friend was dead. Dead and never coming back…

Dumbledore entered the office.  
"What did you do Tom?" He asked somberly. "What did you do to my bird?"  
"I-I didn't … I just wanted…"  
"Fawkes has an allergy to being petted." Dumbledore said, he seemed furious. Tom felt so small as he backed away from Dumbledore.  
"I-I didn't know… I'm so… so sorry…" Tom choked out.  
"Did you think it would be funny? Killing my bird?" Dumbledore asked. "Did you find it fun? Is that your idea of fun Tom? _Killing_?"  
"No!" Tom protested. "I hate killing! I wrote a five-hundred page book on why people should never kill!"  
Another book that nobody would publish…  
"Really Tom?" Dumbledore asked, skeptically. "Really?"  
"Yes! But the lady at the orphanage burned it!" Tom said. "She didn't like me writing… thought it was bad for me. Made me different from the rest of the orphans."  
"So you took those repressed emotions of yours out on my poor Fawkes?" Dumbledore asked, returning to the subject of Fawkes… whose head was poking out of the ashes. Tom looked at it oddly…  
"Uh… your bird…wouldn't happen to be a phoenix would it?" He asked.  
"Why yes Tom." Dumbledore smiled. "Yes he is."  
"Then he wouldn't be allergic to being petted…"  
"Nope."  
"Why did you say he was?!" Tom collapsed on the floor, the weight taken off his shoulders. He hadn't murdered his new bird buddy.  
"Seemed like fun." Dumbledore shrugged and sat down at his desk. He motioned to the other chair, and Tom took it.  
"So, Tom, you're back." Dumbledore smiled.  
"Yes, a bit later than Professor Dippet expected, but I came to request the teaching position he told me I was too young for." Tom smiled. "I have studied much and learned much. Your students would benefit from my teaching. There are things I can protect them against that no other wizard can-"  
Tom was stretching the truth here. He had of course done a little research, but mostly to regain the knowledge he lost while addicted to that blasted game. Dumbledore seemed to know that Tom was not being truthful, as he waited a long time before speaking.  
"I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," he said quietly. "Rumors of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."  
Tom gulped… Had IAMDUMBLEDORE97 actually been Dumbledore? He had hated that user so much… It ashamed Tom to admit the lengths he had gone to spam IAMDUMBLEDORE97's inbox and to make his time playing the game worse. Tom had to say something… he thought hard about what to say… he could admit it… or…  
"Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."  
'WHAT AM I SAYING!?' Tom questioned. He felt horrible inside. He was already a liar at this job interview, which he had so been looking forward to.  
"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" asked Dumbledore delicately.  
"Uh… Yes…" Tom muttered. "I suppose… yes… Maybe… I know… a lot… of magic…"  
"Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "Of some. Of others, you remain . . . forgive me . . . woefully ignorant."  
"Oh, you mean… Love?" Tom asked. "You always said that love is the greatest magic… I would love to research that. What better place than Hogwarts? Will you let me return? Will you let me share what I know and explore what I don't know? I put my knowledge and talents at your disposal."  
Tom knew that this was it. He had tried for years to get Dumbledore to like him, but Dumbledore seemed to delight in not liking him. Perhaps this would finally get him on Dumbledore's good side. Sure, Tom wanted to study love and its effects on magic, but it was as a side interest. His true interest was in studying dark arts and finding ways around them, for the good of mankind. Should love play into the equation, Tom would put it at the forefront of his research, but he had yet to discover a scenario where the protection love gave a person would come in handy.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And what will become of those whom you command? What will happen to those who call themselves — or so rumor has it — the Death Eaters?"  
"Death Eaters? What?" Tom asked. "You mean those people Antonin hangs around with?"  
"You admit you know them?"  
"Some of them have become my friends, but they don't follow me… I mean, Antonin has this nasty habbit of acting like I'm some big leader, but I'm not suited for that." Tom smiled.  
"I'm glad you consider them friends Tom." Dumbledore seemed to ignore the rest of what Tom had said. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."  
"Uh, no." Tom said. "They're just friends and some are friends of friends. We used to do raids in World of MuggleCraft."  
"You played?"  
"Only on the weekends." Tom lied, and smiled.  
"So, if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Muldber, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post." Dumbledore gave a knowing smirk. Tom felt scared… Were his friends in the Hogs Head? Dolohov was rather eccentric, and knowing him he may have planned a party…  
"Uh…You might… I mean… I don't really know… Dolohov may have gathered people…" Tom stammered. "I…"  
'I HAVE TO GET THIS INTERVIEW BACK ON TRACK!' Tom thought.  
"Uh… Dumbledore… I uh… I wrote an anti-Dark Arts paper… and I thought it would be… nice to show how ready I am for the position." Tom smiled, and began rooting through his papers.  
"Now Tom," Dumbledore held up his hand, causing Tom to stop. "Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"  
Tom was confused.  
"A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much." He said. "I feel like Hogwarts is my home. I would love to live in the castle, and to teach people. Have you ever read up on those Horcrux things, Dumbledore? They're terrible. Seventh Years definitely need to know to avoid them-"  
"So you would have them follow in your footsteps, Tom?" Dumbledore asked.  
"What?" Tom asked. 'Follow in my… footsteps?'  
"You think me unwise Tom? I see the changes, I see the signs." Dumbledore whispered. "I see what you have done."  
"What I have done?" Tom asked.  
"You can touch up your physical appearance as much as you like, the scars of your actions will follow." Dumbledore said, coldly.  
"What this? No, this runs in the family." Tom said. "I can't help going bald… and my teeth… I mean, I could probably get my teeth replaced, but I haven't had the money."  
"Tom, Tom…. Try an open request for once. Why have you come back?" Dumbledore asked.  
"Uh," Tom mumbled. "Because I want to teach… I love Hogwarts… and magic… and Hogwarts… and magic…"  
"Tom, what is your plan?" Dumbledore asked. "How deep into evil do you seek to stoop?"  
"What? I- No!" Tom cried. "I have no evil plans! I want to prevent evil! Really, you ought to read my pape-"  
"Stay away from the Potter family, Tom."  
"The Potter family? I love the Potter family." Tom said. "They gave me cookies once."  
"And you plan to murder them for it?" Dumbledore asked. "To make another."  
"Another? Wait…You think I… No! No!" Tom cried. "I would never! I mean, I thought about it once, but I was young and stupid!"  
"Ah youth, if only you were young. A time when I could frighten you into doing good, with a burning wardrobe…" Dumbledore sighed, reminiscing.  
"I'm actually, quite terrified of wardrobes-"  
"But now you are an adult, and must face consequences for your actions. I will not have you near my students Tom." Dumbledore said, coldly. "That is the last I will say on the matter."  
"What? That's it? I don't get the job… I… I didn't?" Tom questioned.  
"Yes, now please leave. Go do your evil deeds so that I might thwart them one day."  
"But I don't want to be evil. Why does everyone think I am evil?" Tom questioned. "You, Dolohov, that witch, Burke, everbody!" Tom began to cry. "I'm not evil! I'll show you!" He ran out of the office and past the bathroom, his wails joining with Myrtle's as he left the castle.

"And that's why I became evil, Harry Potter." Voldemort told Harry Potter. Harry stood awkwardly in the Forbidden Forest across the clearing from Voldemort, who wiped tears from his eyes.  
"Uh… I see…" Harry muttered, awkwardly. He had come to die to stop Voldemort only for Voldemort to insist on telling him a story… He had released Hagrid, and sent all his minions to go back to Malfoy Manor and told him a story. The Lord Voldemort everyone feared…  
"Do you need a penseive to believe me, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked, with a sob. "I never wanted this. I never wanted to kill your parents, but they hated me! I just wanted to teach people how to not be evil..."  
"You're mental!" Harry cried, not believing a word. Voldemort was a liar and foul! Yet as soon as he said it, Harry felt sad… Voldemort stopped crying and instead took on a blank look…  
"Yes, I knew it would be this way…" He said, standing up. "Nobody ever believes me… I don't think most even listen to what I say…"  
"Sorry," said Harry turning from a colorful bird that had drawn his attention. "Come again, I wasn't listening."  
"I know you weren't Harry Potter… I know you weren't." Voldemort said, drawing his wand. "I better get this over with… If my research is correct, you'll be fine, so don't worry about a thing."  
"Oh, well that's nice." Harry said. Voldemort gave him a smile.  
"Say Hi to Dumbledore for me."  
"Will do."  
"And my mum, and dad…"  
"okay…"  
"Oh and thank your grandparents for that cookie they gave me please."  
"Voldemort, just get this over with."  
"Oh Okay… AVADA KEDAVRA!"


End file.
